


A day in the life

by millygal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Beach Sex, Jealous Dean, Jealous Sam Winchester, M/M, Outdoor Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2013-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-26 23:24:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's about time Sam and Dean took a little time...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A day in the life

**Author's Note:**

> Set about 6 years after Season 8. This is for melagan who says she likes a good day in the life fic :)

Face half shaved, straight razor in hand, Sam stares at the little lines and creases that keep sneaking up on him with every passing year. The guy staring back at him is no longer a boy walking in his daddy's shoes, or a teenager following in his big brother's footsteps. He's a man.

A man with his own past, his own timeline and memories. Good and bad. A hunter. A damn good hunter too.

Well hell, when did that happen?

Placing the razor to his cheek, Sam marvels at the silvery wisps starting to show through at his temples.

How old is he now, thirty seven, thirty eight....

God, he's thirty eight years old. Shit, that makes Dean, fucking hell Dean's forty two!

Sam can't remember if he properly ripped it out of Dean when he hit forty, he can't remember if they even celebrated.

He can remember the Roogeroo they hunted last week, and the Shifter they ganked three months ago. He can remember Dean forcing them to install a new heating system in the bunker, but he can't remember if they celebrated his brother's fortieth birthday.

That sucks!

They've been at this far too long if the little things that made it worthwhile, have started to slide.

They need a day off.

Maybe they stopped paying attention when they couldn't slam the gates. Sam thinks perhaps they've been running themselves ragged because they felt responsible for all that evil still stomping around topside.

That's just stupid.

He and Dean have been at this for...he takes a minute to work it out.

He was twenty two when Dean came and yanked him out of Stanford to go find Dad.

Sixteen years! Sixteen years of sending hell bitches back to the depths. Sixteen years of fighting and fucking it up and making it right. Clearing other people's messes and some of their own.

They really need a day off.

Dean used to be the one to force a little relaxation on them, but ever since Sam just about survived the trials, he's been on a killing kick that's scared the hell out of his little brother more than once.

Dean was always the one to make time for a night off, march Sam to a bar and force him drink until he couldn't see straight. He was the one, surprisingly, that remembered anniversaries and birthdays and valentines days.

Now Sam's the one stood here, still feeling like that twenty two year old kid, looking like a thirty eight year old hunter with baggage, and wondering why they've stopped enjoying the small things.

The small things are what make the big things bearable.

They still have each other, they still cling and claw and devour at night, after the last nasty's been put to bed, but the rest of their time is for hunting and helping and seeking, what, redemption, for a failed attempt at saving the earth once and for all.

If nothing else, they should feel proud they even managed to make it to their respective ages. How many men, and women, have they had to say goodbye to over the years?

Pastor Jim.  
Kaleb.  
Dad.  
Ash.  
Ellen.  
Jo.  
Pamela  
Adam.  
Bobby.  
Frank.  
Both their grandfather's.  
Castiel, more than once.  
Each other, too many times.

It's a hell of a role call of the dead and gone, and Sam thinks it's a shitty way to remember their lost comrades, lost friends, if they can't even be bothered to take a little time for themselves once in a while.

Finishing up in the bathroom, Sam thinks about all those people who've touched their lives, made it better, and sometimes a little worse, and he resolves to start enjoying life again. Not just living for the kill.

*********************************************************************************

Dean's got a knife inside the ancient piece of crap that passes for a toaster in this place, and tells himself, not for the first time, that he should replace the bloody thing.

He's been having the same fight for years now.

Bread in, charcoal out. Shout, scream, threaten bloody retribution. Throw the next lot under the grill instead.

He's a forty two year old hunter with more world saving antics under his belt than Superman, how is it he can't get a toaster to do as it's told!

Swearing under his breath, hoping that he won't electrocute himself, or throw the trip in the bunker, Dean wonders what's taking Sammy so long this morning.

He's usually down and bouncing about like Tigger by now. Making that awesome smelling coffee of his and steadfastly ignoring Dean's scowls and comments about tying him to the nearest chair if he doesn't stop being so hyper.

Age hasn't exactly mellowed either of them, but Dean was kind of hoping Sam would've grown out of the 'what we gonna do now, what we gonna do now' mentality.

No such luck.

Sliding four bits of bread under the grill, Dean listens for Sam's elephantine steps on the stairs.

The toast is all but done. Dripping in enough butter to give both of them a coronary, when Sam finally strolls into the kitchen.

Sam surveys the scene, chuckles to himself and heads towards the coffee machine, "I see you lost another battle with the dreaded toaster from hell."

Dean, face covered in crumbs and butter smudges, growls in Sam's general direction and slumps into a chair, "Look, I've told you. One day, I'll win!"

Pouring two large mugs of Brazilian roast, Sam laughs and pats Dean on the shoulder, "Course you will, wouldn't doubt you Dean."

"Fuck off jackass"

Opening his laptop, Sam taps a few keys, checks the bunker's security and data bases, and is relieved to see there aren't any flags on the system.

So far so good.

"Dean?"

Dean's too busy devouring the last of his hard earned breakfast to pay much attention, so Sam kicks him under the table, "Oi, old man, you listening!"

Dean retaliates, leaving what Sam thinks is probably gonna be an impressive bruise on his ankle, and grins, teeth full of crumbs, "What! I'm eating, you know the rules Sammy."

Sam rolls his eyes and wipes a butter drip from Dean's chin, "You're so sexy Dean, anyone ever tell you that?"

Wiggling his eyebrows, Dean smirks and swallows the last of his toast, "You love it and you know it!"

Shaking his head, Sam spins the laptop round for Dean to see, "Look, no flags. No evil beasties."

"And?"

Sam thinks he should probably ease Dean into the idea of a day off, but then realises he's never taken the easy way out with his brother, so ploughs on regardless, "We have nothing to do."

"Again, I say, And?"

"And, I want a day off Dean."

Dean cradles his mug in his hands, blows steam away and takes a sip, "What? You want a day off? If we have nothing to do, doesn't that technically constitute a day off?"

Sam rolls his eyes again and closes his laptop, "No Dean, that constitutes you sitting in the armoury cleaning your gun collection and me sat in the archives researching nothing in particular. I want a proper day off. I want out of this bloody place."

Dean spreads his arms wide and grins, "But this place is awesome, why'd you wanna go out there, with people, and children and annoying things like bike messengers!"

Sam rises and walks round the table, fixing Dean with his best 'Puppy-dog' eyes, "Come on man, I know you've never quite gotten over your love affair with the jets in the tub, but I wanna spend some time, you know... All we ever do is hang around in here, or go out and kill stuff. We used to be able to have a little fun."

Dean runs his hands up Sam's legs, squeezes his ass and winks lasciviously, "I like hanging around in here."

Sam laughs, wiggles his butt against Dean's hands and forges on, "Don't get me wrong, I like 'hanging around' in here too, but...please. We've earned a day out Dean. I was thinking about it this morning. We didn't even celebrate you turning forty! We've been so busy trying to make up for," Sam's not sure whether he should say it out loud. The last thing he wants is Dean in a funk, but he's never gonna get his own way if he pussy foots around the real reason he thinks they've stopped bothering to actually have a life outside of The Life, "We're always working, Dean, you're always so hell bent on making up for not being able to close it all down for good, we never just enjoy each other and the day."

Dean's face falls, and Sam wants to kick himself, but he's got to get through to his stubborn asshat of a brother, that they've more than made up for the fiasco with Crowley and the trials. He's been hiding in this concrete box for too long and needs, Sam needs him, to move on, "Don't Dean. It's been six years. We've saved enough people to warrant a day off."

Dean fights the urge to shout at Sam, it's not his brother's fault, he wasn't the one who called a halt to the final trial, and he's right. Dean hates admitting Sam's right about anything, he never generally hears the end of it. But, he is right.

Dean's been wallowing in self enforced pity for years.

He doesn't regret ending it, doesn't regret stopping Sam from killing himself to save the world. He couldn't handle this place alone, and he's not ashamed of it. Sam's been the only thing, for longer than Dean can remember.

That doesn't mean he's happy with himself or the fact that they still have to go out and fight the good fight every day.

It's about time he at least tried to let it go, "Okay Sammy, I get it. What do you wanna do?"

Sam bounces on the spot and lands in Dean's lap, "Really? We can take a proper, honest to god, day off? With possibly a beach and fun and maybe too many drinks in some random bar!?!"

"Oomph, Sam, you're nearly forty years old and weigh more than the state of Kansas, don't be jumping on me like that!"

Sam waggles his eyebrows and sucks on his bottom lip, "Never complain usually."

Dean exaggerates a sigh and shoves Sam off, "Usually I'm getting laid. Now, stop jumping around like a twelve year old and figure out what you wanna do. I'll give Garth a head's up and tell him he's on demon duty for the day."

*********************************************************************************

They've been 'out' all day.

Sam hasn't felt this relaxed in years, and Dean's slowly started to enjoy himself too. Making fun of the people milling around them, people watching. Sam thinks Dean's probably enjoying his brother's joy more than his own, but it's a start.

They'd played random road roulette.

Dean behind the wheel, Sam shouting out left or right.

"Come on Sam, I gotta indicate!"

"When have you ever indicated, left!"

"Dead end Sammy, pick another turning."

"Right, then left, then...oh look, a beach!"

"I am not going to the beach, I...oh stop pouting, fine!"

They're not in Kansas anymore, Sam doesn't really know where they are, they'll find their way back tomorrow, but they've been mooching about on the beach all day.

Sam's already found a motel close enough to stumble to, so Baby is currently residing in a parking structure and the brothers are lounging up against one of those cheesy beach bars with daft coloured drinks, complete with umbrellas.

Dean scowls at yet another hideously neon drink and takes a sip.

Pleasantly surprised, he eyes the brunette body builder working his way along the towel bound beach babes and laughs, "Have you seen that guy? He's got more chance with a group of djin than he has any of those birds!"

Sam downs the last of his cocktail and looks where Dean's pointing, "Shh, don't be a jerk, he's bigger than you."

"I could take him!"

Sam laughs at the note of wounded pride in Dean's voice and motions for another drink, "I'm sure you could."

Dean turns back to Sam and grins, "Damn straight, don't you forget it. Anyway, we hanging around here all evening, or we gonna go find something to eat?"

"Do you ever think about anything other than what to put in your mouth? Let me just finish this and we'll head off up the strip. There's bound to be something you can make a mess of."

Dean slides a hand up Sam's thigh and tilts his head, "You'd soon complain if I didn't think about it."

It's taken years, but Sam and Dean are finally comfortable enough about themselves in public to not care about what any one else thinks. No one knows they're brothers, so when they're not with the 'inner circle' they behave like a couple. They look different enough from each other to pass.

Sam's about to make some scathing comment when he sees a beautiful redhead wandering along the beach. She's staring at them intently, well not them, Dean.

Oh for god's sake...

"Heads up, you've got an admirer."

Dean looks around confused and Sam nods towards the curvy woman striding up to them, "It never fails to amaze me, how you get older and the chicks just stay the same age."

Dean smirks, purposely ignores the jealous tinge to his brother's voice and turns toward the woman, "What can I say Sammy, this just won't quit!"

Dean ducks the slap he knows Sam's aiming at the back of his head and smiles sweetly at the redhead now sidling along the bar, "Evening sweetheart."

To her credit, she does look slightly embarrassed. She'd obviously thought her intentions weren't quite so obvious, "Hey, I...I'm Lilly."

Sam scowls and turns back to the bar.

Dean decides it's probably a good idea to head her off at the pass, instead of pissing Sam off even more, "Hi Lilly, look, I don't mean to be rude but..."

Sam's busy thinking up entertaining ways to gank the redhead when he actually hears what Dean's saying.

"....but I'm out with my partner, so I'm sure you're a lovely girl and all but, you know, I don't swing that way."

Well that's a first. Dean not flirting up a storm with a pretty woman.

Sam smiles to himself, throws an arm round Dean's shoulders and peers at the now flustered woman backing away, rapidly, "Nice to meet you though."

Dean shoves Sam in the ribs and turns back to him, "You're such a little bitch. No need to make her feel worse than she already does."

Sam chuckles and drops a kiss on Dean's temple, "Just makes a change that's all. Usually I have to come out armed with a machete just to cut my way through the lines of women surrounding you."

"Aw Sammy, no need to be jealous, you know I only have eyes, and other parts, for you."

*********************************************************************************

They've found a restaurant. Nice little place with tea lights in red glass holders, and a good selection of steaks for Dean to salivate over.

Sam's always amazed that Dean's love of red meat hasn't given him early onset angina, but the man seems to have a super human ability to devour anything that used to walk on all fours without it affecting his health.

It's not fair really, Sam's been eating salads and grilled chicken for years and he still suffers from acid reflux.

"So Sammy, gonna go all out and actually eat something other than rabbit food for a change?"

Sam looks over the menu and decides that yes, for once he'll be bad. What the hell. He'll never see eighty anyway, "I was thinking rib-eye. You?"

Dean runs a finger down the menu and squints at the tiny print, "Why'd they always have to write this shit so small..."

Sam bites his lip to stop from making some joke about Dean needing glasses. He'd kind of like to keep his kneecaps, "Want me to tell you what they got?"

Dean nods and silently thanks Sam for being, well, Sam. He's never really taken the opportunity to rip it out of him getting older. Even though it takes him all night to do what he used to do all night. Then again, if he did start, Dean'd just cut him off for a week.

"Rib-eye 12oz, Sirloin 8 oz, Monster burger which, oh my god, sounds like it'd put you straight in hospital it's got so much cheese and bacon. It's 20 oz's, how do they even get it to stay in the bun! Rump 12oz..."

Dean's mouth is watering, he knows exactly what he's going to order, and he's taking bets against himself that Sam will pull his 'it's bad for you-bitch face', "Say no more Sammy boy, I'm gonna have the Monster Burger..."

"Dean, don't you think you should...wait, no, don't worry. Right, Monster Burger for you."

"Wow Sam, not gonna tell me how bad that is for my cholesterol!"

Sam smirks at his brother, runs his foot up the inside of Dean's leg under the table and shakes his head, "Nah, I'll work it off you later."

Dean waves an arm in the air, hoping to catch the attention of the nearest waiter, "Promises promises."

A cute guy, about twenty, comes sauntering up to their table, "What can I get for you sirs?"

He sounds like he's talking to them both, but he's looking Sam up and down like he's a piece of meat, instantly raising Dean's hackles, "I would like the Monster Burger, and my partner would like the rib-eye. Thank you."

Sam digs his nails into his leg through denim, and turns his head away so Dean can't see the smirk on his face.

The waiter never takes his eyes off the taller of the two men, and Sam thinks perhaps he's got a death wish, but can't help feeling a little flattered.

"Very good sirs, how would you like your steak done, I personally like mine a little juicy."

Sam almost chokes on his water and glares at Dean who looks like he's about to say something, "Medium to well done, thanks, " Sam leans forward, reads the guy's name tag, "James."

Dean can't believe the cheek of the guy, he's blatantly Sam's other half, and 'James' is still making faces at Sam like he wants to eat him from the toes up. Un-frigging-believable. Wait, is this what Sam feels like every time some woman drapes herself round Dean? Huh, okay then, no more flirting in front of Sammy.

"Did you want a moment with the wine list sir?"

Dean leans forward, takes Sam's hand in his and shows his teeth, "Yes please, we would."

James nods, pays no attention to Dean and walks away.

"I can't believe...the fucking jewels on that...I should..."

Sam laughs, loudly, and squeezes Dean's hand, "Don't be an idiot Dean. Now you know how I feel every time I have to watch some barely legal blonde try and climb in your lap. Anyway, he couldn't afford it, so stop posturing like a bloody caveman."

They take a minute to figure out what they want to drink, Sam marvelling at Dean picking a nice chardonnay instead of a beer or whiskey, then Sam waves James back over, "We'll have the 2000 Chardonnay please, two glasses."

James is leaning forward, looking for all the world like he's about to whisper something in Sam's ear, when Dean finally decides enough is enough.

Shooting forward across the table, Dean shoves his fingers in Sam's hair, pulls his face down level and claims his lips in a none to chaste kiss.

James straightens and clears his throat, "Will that be all?"

Dean sits back and watches with satisfaction as Sam's eyes flutter a few times, glazed expression firmly in place, and he has trouble forming words, "I...Um, yea, we...That's all."

Dean chuckles at Sam as he shakes his head a few times, trying to clear the fog out of his brain, "Well, he got the message eventually."

Sam tries, and fails, to give Dean a reproachful stare before finally smiling and rubbing the pad of his thumb across Dean's knuckles, "You're so cute when you're jealous!"

"Fuck off"

*********************************************************************************

They're fed and watered, relaxed, walking hand in hand down the beach, enjoying the peace, the buzz from slightly too much wine, and the full moon. For once they're not wondering if there's a werewolf out there that needs ganking or whether they should've brought their guns.

Sam watches Dean watch the waves and thinks this was the best idea he's had in a very long time, "You okay?"

Dean squeezes Sam's fingers and nods, not bothering to turn round, "Yeah, I am. Thanks."

Sam slows, leans up against the boardwalk supports and takes a deep breath, "For what?"

Dean presses himself into Sam, slides his hands into his brother's back pockets and kisses him, "For this. For pulling my head out my ass and making me take a day out."

Sam smiles round Dean's lips, "Welcome."

Dean deepens the kiss, running the tip of his tongue along the underside of Sam's, enjoying the way the taller man spins them and pushes Dean into the wood support, "We shouldn't really be...."

Sam bites down on Dean's bottom lip and pulls, "Shut up, we're on holiday. Plus, there's no one around..."

Usually it's Dean trying to get his freak on in public places, and Sam reprimanding him for being such a dirty slut. Apparently the ocean air and the wine have managed to bring down a few of his baby brother's walls, "We get caught, I'm blaming you."

Sam cups Dean's cheek, nuzzles his face into Dean's neck and licks the length of his pulse point, loving the way Dean squirms against him, "Don't you always?"

Slipping a hand between them, Sam manages to pop the button on Dean's and his jeans, shoving them down as far as he can reach before hooking a foot in Dean's and pushing them all the way to the sandy floor.

Dean wriggles his feet out of his boots, flings the jeans off his legs and does the same for Sam's, "We're gonna get sand in places we don't want..."

Sam grips both of Dean's hands in one of his, raises them above his head and clamps down on Dean's collarbone, "There's a shower in the room. Stop.Talking!"

Using his free hand, Sam rings the head of Dean's already hard cock with his thumb and forefinger, gently jerking his wrist whilst grinding his own cock into Dean's hip, "Tell me you aren't horny as hell! Been a while since we did this somewhere so....open."

Dean shakes his head, bucks his hips and bites down on a moan, "A couple of glasses of wine and you turn into a nymphomaniac. We need to....oh god, we need to stock up on wine at the Bat Cave!"

Sam smirks against brother's throat and sucks the flesh between his teeth, dragging a hiss from Dean.

Despite the possibility of an indecent exposure charge, Dean's cock couldn't be any harder. It's weeping and twitching in Sam's hand and he's not sure how much longer he can take the gentle ministrations before he goes totally insane, "Sammy, please.."

Sam rotates his wrist, grinds himself up against Dean's thigh, "Please what?"

"Oh god, just, please..."

Sam steps away from Dean, just for a moment, rummages around in his jacket pocket and motions for Dean to turn and grab the wooden strut behind him, "You're kidding me...you...you brought lube out with you. Presume much!"

Sam doesn't bother answering, just splays his fingers against Dean's back and pushes hard enough for his brother to get the hint.

Dean steadies himself, plants his feet, and arches into Sam's touch, "Sammy, don't make me..."

Sam covers a hand in lube, runs a finger along the crease of Dean's ass and presses the pad of his thumb against his hole, "Shut up."

Dean can't help it, he loves it when Sam takes charge. It happens very rarely, and has his cock jumping against his stomach in anticipation.

Sam's too drunk to really take that much care with his brother. They've been doing this for so long now, they know each other's limits, know when the pre-amble is unnecessary. So instead of working Dean open slowly and gently, Sam slides two fingers inside him without any warning, making Dean jump and dig his nails into the wood in front of him, "Jesus!"

Sam scissors his fingers, forcing Dean open, "Good?"

Dean bares down on Sam's fingers, sliding himself all the way to Sam's knuckles, "Always."

Sam adds his thumb to the fingers working Dean, enjoys the moans that are getting steadily louder, "That's it, fuck my fingers, come on Dean, show me what you want."

Dean twists his hips, enjoying the fullness of Sam's fingers and thumb, the widening of his ass. His cock is painfully hard now, red and seeping and begging for a touch, but he won't ask, never needs to. Sam'll get there when he wants.

Sam slides his hand away from Dean, positions himself at his opening, digs his nails into Dean's hip and slams home. Dean arches up and away, then down and back onto Sam's cock, fucking himself, using his brother's weight and the wooden support to slide on and almost all the way off of Sam.

Sam nudges a knee between Dean's legs, taps his hip once to make him stop, then starts up a steady, maddening rhythm that has Dean writhing and panting, "Please, baby boy, please, let me..."

"No, no moving, I want you to feel me."

Dean nods, groans, and lets his forehead bang against the wooden beam.

Sam presses forward, buries himself as deep as he can, deep enough for the tip of his cock to brush the little bundle of nerves inside Dean. To Sam's amazement and Dean's credit, he doesn't move a muscle, just digs his toes into the sand beneath his feet and bites down on the inside of his cheek.

Pulling almost completely out, Sam shallow fuck's Dean's ass, stopping only when Dean starts vibrating with the need to move, "Move for me big brother."

Dean twists in Sam's arms, hissing as Sam's cock twists inside him, wraps a leg round Sam's waist and fuck's himself down onto Sam's cock. He takes a hold of his own cock, grabs it roughly and starts jerking himself off.

Sam wraps his fingers round Dean's and together they bring Dean almost all the way to the edge, "Sammy I'm gonna, oh god..I'm gonna..."

As Dean spills himself against Sam's shirt and over their joined hands, Sam thrusts up into his brother, once, twice, three times and he nearly blacks out.

The combination of Dean tightening around him and his own orgasm buckle Sam's knees and they end up in a messy, tangled heap on the beach.

"Fucking hell Sam"

"I'd rather have a quick jerk in paradise."

Dean slaps Sam's arm, untwists himself from the mass of limbs and hunts around for his jeans, "Least you bought me dinner first I 'spose."

Sam laughs, shimmies into his trousers and slaps Dean on the ass, "Never say I'm not a classy guy!"


End file.
